Arya's Bastard Boys
by GirlWithTheRedSoxCap
Summary: Arya (attempts) to thank Ser Davos for keeping Jon and Gendry alive. In which Gendry is a stupid bull, Jon actually smiles, Arya is not a lady, and Dadvos parents. Season 8 post-reunion. Some implied Gendrya. Written to deal with my anger at D&D for not having Jon and Gendry talk about Arya.


The Onion Knight and the She-Wolf of Winterfell stand on the porch overlooking the Winterfell courtyard, their gloved hands gripping the icy railing. Below them, Jon and Gendry stand near the forge, discussing the best weapons to make out of the dragon glass, what would be the most effective.

Swords, knives, daggers, spears, arrows heads, the list goes on.

Arya observes them, a faint smile painted on her chapped lips. "Thank you, Ser Davos." She says, never taking her eyes off Gendry and Jon.

He turns to look at the young girl, startled. "May ask what for?"

"For them. For watching out for them, I mean." She motions to her favorite brother and long-lost best friend, who are now picking up sparing swords, preparing to duel. Arya breathes out a light laugh, "gods know how difficult a job that can be as far as those two stubborn idiots are concerned."

The aging knight knows Jon will win, but it's amusing to watch all the same. "I'm not sure I had much do with it, princess."

Arya turns to face at him, her grey eyes solemn and haunting, mirroring those of her older brother. "Jon and Gendry are alive. They would not be if it weren't for you. So, thank you. Please, do not argue with me on this. I am not very skilled when it comes to giving compliments."

The old knight chuckles. "I've gathered as much from what Gendry has told me about your time together. I believe he has mentioned something about being a stupid bull?"

"A stupid bull-headed boy, actually." Arya corrects, her eyes smiling. "I missed them, you know. My stubborn bastard boys." She snickers when Jon knocks Gendry to the snowy ground with ease.

"Yield! I yield!" Gendry proclaims, his hands thrown up in surrender.

Jon laughs before offering his friend a hand up.

"That's why you should stand side face, dumbarse!" Arya shouts down to him from over the railing.

The Baratheon bastard looks up at his closest friend. His arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps appear all the more prominent. "S'not my fault I never really took to it. My teacher wasn't all that excellent. All she ever did was sit there and eat apples and insult me."

"Well, it is not my fault that you're so stupid!" The teacher in question fires back.

"If I am so stupid, why don't you come down here and show me, since you seem to know so much about it, milady? The blacksmith taunts with a smirk.

Arya grins wickedly in return. "Thank you, Ser Davos." The Stark girl says, before turning away. She starts to clatter down the stairs.

"They missed you too, milady," Davos calls after her.

Arya turns back towards him; a glare painted on across her face. "Make no mistake, I do appreciate what you did for them, but if you ever call me milady again, I'll stick you with the pointy end."

And with that she bounds down the steps, shoving Gendry in the chest, though it barely affects him. He's grown even stronger since they traveled together in the Riverlands, having done nothing but hammer an anvil for the past three years, and this annoys Arya to no end. She shoves him again harder this time, putting all of her weight behind it, which isn't all that much. Gendry only laughs, and Arya scowls. She switches tactics from shoving to punching. She places a well-aimed swing at his gut, right below his rib cage, causing Gendry's laughter to cease and clutching his abdomen.

"Seven hells, Arry. That was not very ladylike."

"Stop saying that!"

Her friend grins and gives a mock bow. "As milady commands."

Before Arya can cause the bull any more bodily harm, Jon drags her attention away, asking her to spar.

She grins wickedly at the challenger and pulls Needle from her hip before turning to Jon. "Think you can beat me, big brother?" She questions, twirling the skinny little blade with a well-practiced hand.

Jon chuckles. "Do not forget who gave you that sword, little wolf. Now, do you remember the first rule of sword fighting?"

The wolf girl doesn't respond as she strikes, too fast for the King in North. She evades every one of his slashes, too quick for Longclaw to catch her, all the while dancing him back towards the stone walls of Winterfell. Within a few moments she has him pinned against the castle wall, Needle pointed at his heart.

"Stick 'em with the pointy end." She retorts, a wicked gleam in the eye.

He laughs. "You already seem to know which end to use," Jon says with a pointed look at where the blade is aimed. The Stark siblings laugh and lower their swords, and he musses her hair, causing her already messy braid to completely fall loose.

Arya turns to Gendry. "It's your turn. Are you ready, bull?"

"Always, milady." He taunts, his smirk a challenge.

Davos shakes his head. The boy won't win the fight and teasing the girl with the quick temper will only mean more bruises for Gendry. Maybe Arya is right when she calls him stupid.

And with that she lunges, promptly knocking him to the ground less than a moment later, her dagger at his throat, her eyes gloating down at him from her perch on his chest.

"I told you should stand side face, makes-"

"For a smaller target, yeah I know." The boy who isn't really a boy anymore grumbles, but he's smiling up at her all that same.

"Do you now?" She arches an eyebrow, her knees on the side of his rib cage as she straddles his chest, while her Valyarian steel dagger is pointed at his throat.

Jon coughs. No response.

"He yields." He claims for the other boy.

But the two long lost friends are too caught up in sparring with words to take any notice of him.

"You can get off of him now, Arya," Jon says, louder.

Nothing.

"Gendry! Arya! Would you please flirting!"

Realizing their position, Arya quickly scrambles off of Gendry, offering a hand to help him up. The blacksmith's face has turned a lovely shade red that matches the Lady of Winterfell's hair, while the King in the North just shoots his friend a icy glare that reads _we'll be having a long and awkward conversation about this later_ , before turning back to his little sister who he is beginning to realize, is not so little anymore.

The old knight smiles to himself as he watches the scene below him.

The three playful teasing and bickering in the yard they once played in as children, even now they are barely more than children, though they have lost more than most do in a lifetime. All of them have lost far too much, far too young and the old knight shudders to think of all the traumas they have endured, all of the horrors they have witnessed, and all of the sorrows they have felt. Of the sins that mark their souls and the scars that mark their once unblemished bodies. War is a cruel and terrible fate, and the innocent can never survive. This war has forced them to grow up and give them responsibilities and losses they never dreamed.

They deserve this, he thinks. To be happy and carefree, even if it is only for a moment. They are together again, just as they should be.

The wild and willful girl and the loyal bastard boys, who have always been hers.


End file.
